


Do we really have to do this again?

by stormthedarkcity



Series: Fictober 2018 [30]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Battle Couple, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2020-10-04 08:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormthedarkcity/pseuds/stormthedarkcity
Summary: Keerla Tabris trains with Alistair with an unexpected fierceness.





	Do we really have to do this again?

Alistair’s back hit the ground for the third time, dirt flying around him. He coughed, and whined when he saw Keerla’s extended hand. “Do we really have to do this again?” He looked up at her, eyes pleading.

“Yes.” She grabbed his hand without waiting for his answer and dragged him up. He looked as surprised by her strength as he always seemed to be.

“Wait!” he shouted as Keerla gripped a dagger in each hand and positioned herself for combat. “Wait!” he repeated, diverting her first blow with his shield.

“You,” she slashed again, barely missing his arm, “need to learn,” she whirled around him, “how to protect your flanks.” She immobilised in a heartbeat, right dagger scrapping a leather piece covering Alistair’s side. He let his arms fall from their defensive posture.

“Alright, I get it!”

Keerla straightened up, pushing wet hair from her face with the hilt of her knife. “You don’t.” She rolled her shoulders and flipped her daggers, circling Alistair slowly.

He let both sword and shield clatter to the ground.

“You–”

Alistair stopped her with a gesture. “I won’t fight you until you tell me what this is about.”

Keerla waved her daggers in the air, powerless. Her eyes were stinging. “You need to learn how to protect your flanks!” she repeated, voice hoarse.

“Keerla–”

Her fingers clenched on the hilt of her daggers. She hated this. Before she could even realise she was doing it, she whirled around and threw both blades towards the nearest tree trunk. They hit it with a thump, notching firmly into the bark.

Frustration was heavy in her throat. She screamed.

“Keerla.” Alistair’s voice was soft. It felt like a cold hand on a feverish forehead. She turned to him, breath still shuddering, but her fists were uncurling on their own.

“You could’ve died,” she breathed.

“When?”

“This morning.” She closed her eyes. “Darkspawn at the farm. There was a Shriek. It would have killed you, if Leliana hadn’t seen it first.”

Alistair sounded surprised. “I’m lucky she did, then.”

“YOU NEED TO LEARN TO PROTECT YOUR FLANKS,” Keerla shouted. She felt a few warm tears roll down her cheeks, and she wiped them hurriedly. “It was so close,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry.”

“It can’t happen again. Alistair, I…” She shook her head, incapable of meeting his gaze. “My mum was a good fighter. But she never protected her flanks enough.”

“Is it what…what happened to her?”

Keerla ran a trembling hand over her face. “I don’t know what happened to her. I know that she was killed, and she might not have been if she’d kept an eye on her sides.”

“I’m sorry,” Alistair repeated. He pulled Keerla into a hesitant hug. “I promise I’ll listen to your advice.”

“You can’t die,” she muttered into his chestplate. “Not you too.”

“I’ll do my best.” He kissed the top of her head, and she melted a bit more into his embrace, matching her breathing to his.

“Will you let me teach you how to protect your flanks?” she finally asked in a small voice.

“Of course.”


End file.
